


let the pain remind you hearts can heal

by zanetashadoe



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Bechdel Test Pass, Canon-Typical Violence, F/F, Gen, Missing Scene, Self-Harm, martin and tim are there but not enough to tag them, tagging on the safe side here, this is like a canon retelling but almost entirely of scenes that dont appear in canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-01
Updated: 2020-08-01
Packaged: 2021-03-06 08:13:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,241
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25640068
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zanetashadoe/pseuds/zanetashadoe
Summary: Melanie knew there was a bullet in her leg. She knew it when the doctors dismissed it. She knew it when she felt it aching just below her knee. She knew it when she became angrier, more violent. She knew, and yet she did nothing about it. Tried to dismiss it early on, tried to explain it away or drink it away.The thing was, Melanie didn’t mind the bullet.---Or: a story about one woman's journey to defy an eldritch god and how she succeeded.
Relationships: Georgie Barker/Melanie King
Comments: 6
Kudos: 20
Collections: WLW Writing TMA Women





	let the pain remind you hearts can heal

**Author's Note:**

> once again i am writing the fic i wish to see in the world. this was created because i wanted to write a georgie/melanie fic, and then i realized i had absolutely no idea how they got together, or even WHY they did. this is the result of me figuring that out as well as melanies motivations in general. so, without further ado, i present to you: the horrible rollercoaster that is melanie kings life.

It was over a cup of tea that Melanie told Georgie she had accepted a job at the Magnus Institute. Some time had passed since she had actually started working there, but she had put off telling Georgie until the guilt threatened to overwhelm her. 

She was hesitant to tell Georgie because, well, it was Georgie. Part of it was that Melanie held a deep admiration for the woman, but she didn’t tend to do well with people she cared about getting entangled in things she considered dangerous. Melanie had found this out the hard way when she had revealed her plans for India.

In some ways, Melanie didn’t want to admit that Georgie had been right about that to an extent. Melanie never mentioned the bullet to her, hoped she would never need to. It felt wrong lying to her friend like that, but Melanie didn’t have many friends anymore and she needed to keep the few she had left. The one, really. 

So Melanie had told Georgie that the trip to India had gone well, she’d seen a few ghosts but nothing too major. Maybe she hadn’t researched well enough, haha! Silly old Melanie, flying all that way and being mistaken about the war ghost resurgence after all! The bullet wound stung all the while, but it wasn’t anything a few ibuprofen couldn’t fix. 

Now, as Georgie pulled out the other chair at the small table in Melanie’s dining room and sat down, Melanie steeled herself for the impending conversation. She had sort of planned out how she would say it, but Melanie hadn’t been good at sticking to plans lately.

“There’s, er, something I needed to talk to you about,” she started, unsure of a less anxiety inducting way to bring it up.

“What is it?” Georgie asked, pouring hot water from the kettle.

“Well, you know the place Jon works at, the Magnus Institute?” Georgie’s face scrunched at the mention, though whether it was directed at the mention of Jon or his place of work Melanie couldn’t discern. “Right, well, I was offered a job there recently as an archival assistant and...I took it.”

Georgie’s expression soured even further. “You’re joking, right?” When Melanie’s expression showed no sign of levity, Georgie pushed her glasses up to rub at her eyes, letting out a huff as she did. “Melanie, do you have any idea how dangerous that place is? Never mind the fact that you’re hardly qualified to work in an archive. How many times have I complained about Jon and how he needs to get away from that place?” 

Georgie’s voice rose as she talked, not out of anger but rather exasperation.

“I’m not stupid,” Melanie scowled. “I’m perfectly capable of making my own informed decisions.” She pointedly ignored the fact that she had hardly considered the position for more than a minute. 

“You know, sometimes I don’t think you are! I mean, really, what were you thinking?”

“I’m not exactly rich and I’ve been out of a job for a while now,” Melanie shot back. “I thought it would be nice to work in my field.”

Georgie shook her head, “Look, Melanie, I don’t want to fight about this but I think you’ve made a really terrible mistake.”

“I knew you’d say that,” Melanie muttered under her breath. Then, louder, “I appreciate the concern, I really do. But I know what I’m doing, and I just wanted to let you know. Keep you in the loop and all that.”

“Fine.” Georgie looked down at her teacup sullenly. “I just, I worry about you. And don’t- don’t tell me not to, because we’re friends and that’s what friends do.”

Something inside Melanie urged her to goad Georgie back into anger, to keep fighting. Instead, she shoved the instinct back down and took a sip of her quickly cooling tea. It was more bitter than she would have liked, and she tried not to make a face. 

It had gone well, all things considered. Georgie hadn’t stormed out of her flat or threatened to never speak to her again, both things Melanie had feared. Melanie asked about the Admiral to break the tension, and the conversation flowed easily from there, as if they hadn’t been fighting a moment ago. She still had a friend. She wasn’t alone.

\--- 

It was normal to try to kill your boss, Melanie reasoned, especially if said boss had killed two people and had openly stated that you were supernaturally trapped in your job. And while Elias had claimed that killing him would kill the others, Melanie wondered if that would be so terrible. Even dying would be better than being trapped against her will, and she assumed the others would feel the same. Besides, it was probably just a bluff, anyway.

This is what she thought about as she dropped painkillers in a plain black coffee, waiting for the pills to dissolve. Poisoning was easy, wasn’t it? The death could simply be explained away by some malicious or neglectful barista, and it wouldn’t necessarily come back to her. She was only delivering the coffee, after all. Besides, the Magnus Institute seemed to be brimming with criminals and none of _them_ ever seemed to get arrested. 

Melanie thought about what it would be like if she died today. Would it be painful or drawn out? Would there be some sort of explosion or would she and her colleagues just drop dead all at once? The thought of death didn’t scare Melanie much anymore. She started to feel that way somewhere in between the different ghost assaults, throwing herself into harm's way just to find answers.

Nothing else seemed to matter these days. She was apparently working for some sort of evil god after losing her career and most of her friends and family. It didn’t seem like things could get much worse. 

Doubt flickered in Melanie’s mind. What would Georgie think if she found out Melanie was a murderer? Even worse, if she found out that there was a small part of her that felt good about doing it. 

She had thought up different ways to kill Elias, daydreams she had while pretending to organize boxes of statements. Strangling would be the most satisfying, she had decided, the best way to watch the life fade from his eyes. There were other ways too, like using the ax left in the storage room, or an old pipe for some sort of dreadful irony. 

The temptation to be violent was strong, and Melanie couldn’t remember if that was new. Sure, she’d had her share of scuffles when she was younger, but that was normal. She scratched idly at her leg as she sat, swirling the coffee around in its cup as the pills dissolved. 

This was the safest way, the simplest. No chance of losing a physical fight, and not hard to prepare for. Melanie almost felt proud of her brilliance. If only the rest of her life could go so smoothly!

\--- 

With her first attempt at murder ruled a total disaster, Melanie was left dissatisfied and longing for an outlet. What she needed was a stiff drink, or several. She had gone out for drinks with the other archival assistants a few times, but she wasn’t much in the mood for company these days.

Melanie was ending her days with a drink or four more often than not. It took the edge off of the weird and growing thirst for violence. She had almost gotten into several fistfights recently: an elderly woman who was taking too long getting her change into her purse, a man who accidentally bumped into her on the street, an Institute employee who had looked at her the wrong way. 

The reason they hadn’t turned into fights was because Melanie had stopped herself as soon as her hands curled into fists. It was terribly unfulfilling. 

So Melanie drank in her free time. Occasionally, the alcohol made things worse and she ended up smashing things. Objects that shattered worked best, the sound as they shattered and the splintering of the pieces scratched the itch for a short time. Then there was the aftermath, cleaning everything up.

There was something calming about the cleaning up, the methodical sweep of the broom, the clatter as the pieces went into the bin. It was all part of the ritual. 

Sometimes Melanie would pick up the shards with her hands, hoping that maybe one of her fingers would slip and get sliced. Once, she got so frustrated putting away her laundry that she had torn apart a plastic clothes hanger and sliced at her leg with the sharp edge. She felt calmer afterwards, sated somehow. And she kept drinking.

\--- 

“You’re really serious about killing Elias, then?” Tim asked one day in the office. “What about the whole ‘beating heart of the Institute’ thing?”

“You don’t think he’s just saying that to make us scared?” Melanie countered, tossing aside the statement she’d been holding. “Like, ensuring he’s protected by making us think we’ll die too?”

“I guess that makes sense. I hardly trust a word he says at this point,” Tim said. “Almost seems like more trouble than it’s worth, though. He has that weird way of just knowing when something is about to happen.”

“You can say that again,” Melanie muttered. She hadn’t told the others yet that she’d already tried to off Elias. She hadn’t wanted anyone to try to stop her. Now it was looking like she would need an accomplice to actually pull something off. 

“But he needs to be stopped. It’s just not right, him getting to work on his shitty evil plans while we’re all trapped here forced to read ghost stories,” she complained. I just feel like if the police can’t get him for whatever reason, the logical next step is to take his life.”

“And the person best able to do that is...you?” Tim’s quirked an eyebrow in disbelief.

“Oh, do you know someone better?” Melanie challenged. “Jon’s hardly here half the time, Martin’s about as aggressive as a marshmallow and Basira’s treating this whole thing like some sort of holiday. So best I figure, it’s either me or you, Tim.”

“Look, if you want to kill Elias be my guest, but I’m not going to get involved in all of that. I’ve got my own things going on, too.”

“But you wouldn’t stop me?” 

“I wouldn’t dare dream of it.”

\--- 

Melanie heaved into the toilet, crying all the while. The thought of her father dying like that was so sick, so twisted, it was a miracle Melanie hadn’t vomited in Elias’s pristine office. Probably should have, she thought bitterly. But her legs had moved without thinking, stiffly at first and then a full sprint, bringing her to the first bathroom she’d seen.

Elias hadn’t shown her how her father had looked when he died, but she couldn’t help but picture him suffering, infested. Was her imagination better or worse than how he had actually looked? Melanie tasted bile on the back of her tongue, throat burning. She re-positioned herself next to the toilet and just cried. 

It had taken a long time for Melanie to feel at peace with her father's death. They had always been close, despite the dementia in his later years. He had been her greatest ally, always supportive of her career, her sexuality, her approach to life. She was lost without him. 

Elias had been right, he was an anchor for her. Without him, she felt like she’d been lost at sea. The grief had never gotten easier, only changed. It came in different ways now, somehow less as time passed. But to say that she didn't grieve him any longer would be false.

She blamed herself for not being able to afford a better home, for not visiting more often, for not predicting that there would be a fire. Logically she knew that she hadn’t had anything to do with it. She had visited more often than most would, paid for the best care she could. 

It took years but she had finally come to terms with it. Accepted that he had died peacefully at least, didn’t feel the flames licking at his body, unable to remember where he was or understand what was happening. It was horrible, a tragedy, but at least he had died peacefully.

Or so she had thought until now. She choked back a sob as the knowledge swirled in her mind. He had grown sick and suffered greatly as his body was covered with that thick yellow rash. Insects had grown inside of him, made a home in the soft tissue of his body. 

It had been slow and painful, she knew. Images flashed in her mind unbidden of his face gaunt and yellow. Of greasy bed sheets and flies leaving his mouth, crawling all over him. _Little moth_ , she imagined him calling out, _little moth, where are you?_ How was she supposed to have known? She had been there so often, how was it possible for something like that to happen so quickly?

Melanie’s stomach twisted again but there simply wasn’t anything else left to come up. She scrubbed at her face roughly with her hands. Shaking, she pushed herself up off of the cold bathroom tile and made her way out of the stall. 

She splashed cold water on her face and felt anger take hold of her again. If anything, Elias’s little ploy had only increased her determination to kill him. She was going to make him pay for this if it was the last thing she got to do. 

She didn’t go out for drinks with Basira like she had planned to that afternoon. Just went home and drank until she passed out. There wasn’t any other way she was going to forget what had happened.

\--- 

Rain drops woke Melanie up one Saturday morning in late July as they tapped gently at her window. She rolled over away from the window in a desperate attempt to go back to sleep.

Her head ached something awful and her tongue felt dry against the roof of her mouth. It was too much to be able to go back to sleep and she gave up before long. Melanie grimaced as she opened her eyes, even in the low light. 

The light sensitivity confirmed her suspicions of a hangover. She never used to get them, but she was older now and they seemed to come more frequently. Fortunately, she knew the best cure for a hangover: another drink. It wasn’t her usual fix, but it was Saturday and she didn’t have the energy to suffer today.

So she stumbled into the kitchen of her small flat to choke down her ibuprofen with a shot of vodka and tried not to puke. The ibuprofen wasn’t doing much for her leg these days, but she hoped it would help with the headache. 

Things had gotten progressively worse since her last altercation with Elias. It felt like the last vestige of her sanity was leaving her. Melanie had been through so much in the last few years and had almost nothing to show for it. 

She’d put her heart and soul into her work, and it had turned into a house of cards, falling apart the second she’d found something actually supernatural. Even her friends in the ghost hunting community had turned on her. 

The precious memories of her father had been violated and she was trapped in a job that was soul sucking in more ways than one. Her coworkers were fine but they weren’t what she would call friends. Besides, she’d snapped harshly enough to make all of them cry at least once. Though she wasn’t sure if Martin counted, since it seemed like anything could make him cry these days.

On the other hand, Melanie had found that she couldn’t cry anymore. She’d watch sad movie after sad movie in an attempt to feel anything other than the anger growing inside of her. It hadn’t worked. Even while drunk she couldn’t manage it. 

There was only anger, crawling inside her rib cage, shaking in her fists as they balled up at every minor inconvenience. And the worst part was that it felt so _right_. 

How had things gotten so out of control? She thought having a “real” job was finally a step in the right direction. It had seemed normal enough despite what she’d heard from Georgie. Now they were in preparations to blow up some kind of mannequin circus. Melanie didn’t know if it would be better to go and possibly die in the explosion, or stay behind and continue to premeditate Elias’s murder. 

She was angry about both things - about something trying to end the world when she hadn’t even gotten to enjoy it fully, and her boss who had trapped her into a cage of misery which served only to antagonize her. But between the two Elias was more personal, a more attainable goal. 

He would undoubtedly be distracted during the Unknowing and if she had just one other person there to ensure that his attention was fully away from her she would finally be able to see him take his final breath. It was a half-baked plan but she was better at the whole action part.

Those thoughts would have to wait, though, as Melanie received a text from the only person she talked to outside of the Institute: Georgie. It read, “Are we still on for dinner tonight?” and there were a few smiling emojis at the end. 

Melanie stared at her phone, bewildered. She’d completely forgotten about that. Or rather, she didn’t remember making plans with Georgie in the first place. She scrolled up through the conversation to discover that she had invited Georgie to go out for dinner earlier that week. 

Melanie frowned, realizing she must have been blacked out then. She hadn’t even been drinking that much, it must have just been another weird part of working at the Institute. At least it meant she still got a little sentimental when she drank.

She hurriedly checked the rest of their texts, making sure she hadn’t sent a drunken love confession. Melanie wasn’t in love with Georgie, of course not.

It was true that Georgie was quite attractive, and yes, Melanie had thought about what dating her might be like, but that didn’t mean anything. That’s just what being a lesbian is like. When the dating pool is that small, it’s hard not to notice the others even if they happen to be a friend.

Besides, she and Georgie hadn’t talked much lately. It wasn’t that they didn’t talk at all, but with so much of Melanie’s life wrapped up in the Institute, there just wasn’t much she felt comfortable talking to Georgie about. Besides, most adult friends didn’t see each other regularly anyway. 

Mostly, Melanie didn’t want to admit that Georgie had been sort of right about the job. Well, she had been completely right but Melanie still had her pride and wasn’t going to admit that anytime soon.

Back to the issue at hand, Melanie decided to reply in the affirmative. It had been so long since she’d been anywhere other than work, her flat, or occasionally the shops. Maybe talking to someone normal would help clear her mind, give her an idea of what to do next. 

For now, she crawled back into bed. She wouldn’t need to get dressed for several hours yet.

\--- 

Melanie couldn’t remember the last time that anxiety had started to bubble in her stomach, but she felt a duller, distant version of it as she waited for Georgie outside of her favorite Hungarian restaurant.

They had been friends for years and had lots of dinners before, but it had been long enough that Melanie was nervous about seeing her. It wasn’t a date or something, and besides, there weren’t any feelings between them. 

She didn’t have time for a relationship and even she could admit she wasn’t in the mental state to be a good partner. So why, then, did her heart beat every so slightly out of time when she saw Georgie wave as she drew near?

It was probably just because of her work situation and she was worried about how Georgie would react. That, and remembering which things she had lied about was beginning to get confusing for her. 

Besides, everyone had those thoughts about friends once in a while, especially when you only had one of them. Melanie rubbed the back of her head where the hair was buzzed, a nervous tic. And then they were sitting down and ordering and everything was going fine.

They made small talk: how Georgie’s rugby team was doing, the state of the world, the latest memes, all the basics. Topics that didn’t need deep answers. Not deep personal answers at least. Finally, Georgie asked the question that made Melanie’s heart stop:

“So, what’s been keeping you away from me for so long? It feels like it’s been ages since I saw you last.” 

It was the topic Melanie had wanted to avoid at all costs, yet desperately needed to talk about. Georgie deserved answers, at least.

“The short answer or the long one?” She asked, offering Georgie the opportunity for mercy. Melanie knew it wouldn’t be that easy, but it didn’t hurt to try.

“I want the truth,” Georgie said instead. She wore an expression that would have looked perfectly friendly to anyone else, but Melanie knew the glint in her eye meant that she wasn’t going to put up with any bullshit. 

“Honestly, it’s been work.” Melanie half expected Georgie to yell out, “I told you so!”, but she didn’t. “Things have sort of...gotten out of hand.”

“Exactly how out of hand are we talking? Like, you’ve just gotten a load of new files to put away, or are you becoming some sort of monster too?”

It was no secret that Georgie had finally told Jon that on no uncertain terms that he was never to come back to her flat. He’d been living in the archives ever since. Melanie briefly wondered if Georgie would have kicked her out, too. 

“No, I’m not becoming some sort of monster,” Melanie huffed. “But you know how Jon gets and, well, there’s a big project going on right now you could say.”

“A project like researching for an episode or like when you left the country to go fight a messed up war ghost?” 

Melanie sucked the last of her drink through her straw, creating an awful noise as the glass emptied. “Like going to fight a war ghost,” she admitted.

“But that’s not all, is it?” Georgie asked, because she couldn’t ever let anything go. She couldn’t just take the out that Melanie was giving her, she had to push and prod at every last part of her to pass a judgement on her. 

“How would you know?” Melanie countered, “Maybe it really is just a little ghost hunting. Making our own statements, or something.”

The look in Georgie’s eyes shifted to pity and Melanie had to look away. She was always looking at her like a wounded animal, like something that couldn’t help itself. Melanie hated it. It made her feel small and anger boiled inside of her as she recognized it. 

She promised herself that tonight wouldn’t be a screaming match. Georgie was the one person she didn’t want to take her frustration out on.

“Because when you ran off to India, you didn’t wait three months to tell me your half-baked plan.”

“Ok, now, to be fair, you didn’t take that news very well.”

“This is true,” Georgie said, “but I was upset because I care about you a lot. And I know better than to think you’re too scared to tell me things, Melanie.” She was right, to a degree. Melanie wasn’t scared of Georgie having an outburst, but rather the pity, the sadness, the worry.

“So...you aren’t mad at me?”

“Oh no, I’m furious actually. You keep putting yourself in these dangerous situations with no regard for your own safety. You act like it’s so important to find these ghosts or figure out the answer to some made up riddle but it’s not! Really, I think you’re just looking to be reckless enough to kill yourself!” Georgie kept her voice down, but her cheeks flushed with anger and her voice was starting to crack.

Melanie bit back a snarl, “That is completely untrue and you know it.”

“Do I? Because from my perspective, Melanie, it looks like you’ve gone fucking mad! Do you have any idea what it feels like to be someone who cares about you? I worry about you all the time! Frankly if you didn’t text me once every 6 weeks I’d have thought you were fucking dead.”

Melanie was about to respond with a tirade of her own, but was interrupted by the server dropping off the check. Melanie insisted on paying for both of them, if only out of pettiness. Georgie gave her a look that clearly said “this isn’t over”, and Melanie agreed to go back to Georgie’s flat to continue the...discussion. Not an argument.

\--- 

They were silent on the tube and walk back to the flat. Melanie tried to hide that she was seething, but judging by the looks of passersby on the street, she wasn’t doing a good job of it.

“Hello, Admiral,” Georgie said when the door to her flat opened to the loud meowing of her cat. “Do you remember Melanie?” The Admiral butted his head against Melanie's ankles as if in affirmation, but she knew that he was a friendly cat regardless and it didn’t mean much.

“So,” Georgie settled on the two-seater and patted the cushion beside her. “Tell me what’s really going on?”

“It’s complicated,” Melanie hedged.

“Then break it down for me.”

“Right. Well, Jon told you about some of it, right?”

“Sort of. Something about turning into a monster and fear gods and whatnot. But what does that mean for you?”

“I’m getting there alright? Just trying to see what you knew first.” Melanie picked at a thread in one of the rips in her jeans. “So, er, once you start working in the archives, you can’t leave. Not even if you really want to.”

“Well that’s illegal, isn’t it? We just need to let someone know, find a lawyer-” 

“You’re not listening to me, Georgie. It’s not like they aren’t letting us leave. We just can't. It’s part of the whole...fear god thing. Elias is this, this incredibly fucked up being and we can’t quit and we can’t kill him because allegedly if he dies, we all die with him. But it might be the only way to get free”

“And how...how did you find this out, exactly?”

“He told us. Part of a threat. This other woman there, Basira, I watched her sign the contract then. Look, this isn’t even the biggest problem on our hands right now. I’m just saying don’t, don’t lecture me about how I ‘just need to leave’ and ‘it’s not that hard’,” Melanie gave a poor impression of Georgie’s accent. “I’m trying to tell you, I might die soon. The next few weeks, actually.”

Georgie was silent, eyebrows bunching together as she studied Melanie’s face. Something in Melanie wanted to reach forward, smooth the creases in Georgie’s face. She resisted it. 

“Melanie, I’m....I’m so sorry if I put you in this situation.” Georgie was close to tears again.

“What?” Melanie’s shock was obvious. “What are you apologizing for? You’re the one that didn’t want me to take the job!”

Georgie sniffled, “No, not about that. I mean, the whole thing that set you off, with Sarah. If I had recommended someone else, or just not even mentioned her, you wouldn’t be here. I mean, I even knew something was off about her and I told you to take her to some spooky hospital with you!”

“Are you seriously turning this into something about you? If you want me to feel guilty or something, it’s not happening.” Melanie’s jaw set. 

“That’s not what I meant and you know it. I want to help you Melanie, please believe me,” Georgie’s lip began to wobble. “Please don’t die,” she whispered.

“I don’t want to,” Melanie offered. “I’m not doing this as some sort of an assisted suicide. Believe me, I’m not going anywhere while that douchebag is still alive. I even...look, don’t tell this to anyone. Not even your mum.” Georgie nodded resolutely. “I put painkillers in his coffee, tried to kill him. I think, soon, we’re going to try something else. And if it works, well, I might go down with him.”

“You’re...you’ve tried to murder your boss.”

“Yes.”

“And you’re going to try it again.”

“Yes.”

“Don’t take this the wrong way, but, aren’t you worried about, I dunno, getting arrested?”

“That’s the thing! Remember what happened to Jon, with the whole murder suspect thing?” Melanie asked. Georgie nodded. “Right, well, it seems like Elias has some connection to the police, we’re basically exempt from the law. I’d bet my left leg he’s got blackmail on them, so they’d probably be glad if he died.”

Georgie sat thinking for a moment, taking everything in. “Obviously, I would prefer it if you didn’t kill anyone. But I lied to the police for Jon, so of course I’d do it for you. Whatever it takes to get you out of there, I support it. I support you.”

Melanie was stunned. “Well, thanks, I really didn’t think you would see it that way.” 

“I’m not going to sit here and just, just let another one of my friends get trapped by this evil thing. I just won’t do it.” There was a fiery determination in Georgie’s words. 

“There’s something else you should know about, too. One of these gods is having a ritual. Some of us are going to go try and stop it. I probably won’t, but they’re using explosives, going to blow the whole thing up,” Melanie sighed. “Jon might die. I know you guys aren’t getting on right now - hell, I don’t like the guy either. But, you might want to… be prepared. For that.”

Georgie nodded solemnly. “I do wish things hadn’t ended quite like that. But it was the right thing to do. I’ll...I’ll give him a call, or something.” She opened her arms, “Come here, Melanie.”

There wasn’t much distance between them on the two seater, but Melanie scooted closer and leaned into Georgie’s embrace. A warm feeling stirred in her chest, or tried to. It had been a long time since Melanie had had good human contact. Something other than violence or the quick accidental touch when handing her card to a cashier. 

“I missed you,” Georgie murmured into the crown of Melanie’s head. “Don’t stay away for that long again.”

“I won’t,” Melanie said, meaning it. “I missed you too.” 

They stayed like that for a while, Georgie’s breath on her scalp, fingers tracing patterns on her back. If Melanie nodded off for a bit, Georgie didn’t mention it.

\--- 

At last, the day of the Unknowing came. Melanie had hardly slept the night before, anxious for her and Martin’s plan to take off. She would have preferred to kill Elias rather than imprison him, but she would take what she could get. Melanie was going to get him eventually, prison or no.

It made her feel better knowing that he wouldn’t be living comfortably anymore. She’d tried to take the lead from Martin, maybe get herself in a position where murder was possible without the others knowing about it, but Martin was such a pacifist and either way he was so intent on actually doing something that Melanie felt bad taking the action away from him. 

But it was something. There was finally going to be some action taken against Elias. Melanie wished she could see Elias’s face when he realized that Martin was burning his precious statements. Alas, his office door had only a small window, and Melanie had to stay out of sight until he left the office.

Her mission was simple: get the tape of the murder and get out before Elias could get back. It was thrilling, in a way. She thought about what would happen if he came back before she was done, if she could use the element of surprise and bludgeon him with one of the ugly and expensive looking vases she’d seen the last time she was in his office.

Memories of her last visit to his office rose unbidden in her mind. It didn’t make her sad anymore, only fueled her anger. Just then, she heard Elias burst from the room and head quickly down the hall. She came out from her hiding place and snuck in, getting to work. 

A cursory glance showed no safe, only locked desk drawers. The keys were easy enough to find, in the top drawer of his desk, unguarded. Melanie wanted badly to take more than what they needed, destroy something important. 

Unfortunately for her, this was a stealth mission and she couldn’t do anything he would notice. Instead, she rifled through the unlocked drawers, searching for the evidence. It was easy, much easier than she had anticipated. Was he on to them?

But no, he couldn’t be. He’d taken the trouble to hide the tapes, and there was no way he would have just let Martin burn the statements like that. He really was just that confident in himself. 

Melanie slipped the tapes into the lower pockets of her cargo shorts for safe keeping, and nicked an expensive looking fountain pen for good measure. She hastily arranged the office the way she had found it and slipped back into the hall. Elias would probably be done with Martin by now, and she needed to get back down to the archives.

Right on time, she rounded the corner to see Elias retreating from Martin’s office. When the coast was clear, Melanie took a deep breath and stepped in. 

Martin was quick to speak, “Did you find anything?”

“Uh, yes, I found-” when Melanie glanced up at Martin, she realized he was crying. It wasn’t a terribly unusual sight, Melanie had made him cry often enough herself. But it felt different this time. Anger flared in her gut, but it was fiercely protective. “Jesus, are you okay?”

A stupid question, he obviously wasn’t and it was Elias who had done this to him. Martin seemed to move past it though, as he ignored her question and asked about the tapes instead. Melanie went along with it for his sake, but the anger simmered inside her. 

She couldn’t understand why after going through so much because of him, Martin didn’t feel the way she did about Elias. It was so obvious to her that prison wasn’t the answer, killing was, but Martin begged her not to do anything. They did need to get going to the police station. Elias would be in a cell soon enough.

It felt strange, being angry for someone else for a change. Melanie had spent so long thinking about her own situation and what Elias had done to her personally, that she hadn’t stopped to think about what he’d done to hurt the others. She had never even bothered to ask. She felt just a tiny bit guilty, knowing that Martin had probably just gone through his own personal hell, much like she had. 

Martin obviously wasn’t going to offer any details, but Melanie wondered about it anyway. What trauma did Martin have, what had he gone through? What horrible things had Elias shown him, branded into his brain? She remembered that his mum was in a nursing home. 

They’d talked about it once. Melanie had been sympathetic, knowing exactly how hard it was to have a parent in a home. Not only was it difficult emotionally but it was a strain on the wallet as well. If Melanie hadn’t had her mother’s life insurance payment, she’d have lived very differently. Even worse, it had sounded like Martin and his mum didn’t get on. 

It had been the nicest interaction she’d ever had with Martin, back when she had first begun working in the archives. She’d become so much colder in the past few months. 

So when she and Martin departed for the police station she put an arm around his waist, rested her head on his shoulder for just a moment. It was a small but deliberate act of kindness, unknowingly in defiance of the other god that had claimed her.

\--- 

Three people died that night. More like two and a half, as Jon hadn’t had the decency to die properly. He should be dead, should have lost his life with the rest of them but instead he lay in hospital, brain surviving against the odds. Melanie hadn’t gone to see him, probably would have ended the brain activity if she had.

Melanie was still trapped in the Institute along with Basira, even with Elias gone. So basically, they had done all of that for absolutely nothing. If Martin hadn’t been so insistent on taking Elias alive, she wouldn’t still be here. 

And Jon was just as bad as Elias, wasn’t he? He’d gotten two people killed, trapped everyone in this mess. They were all here because of their association with Jon, not Elias. Maybe she had been wrong about who to kill all along. 

It had been his half-baked plan that killed Tim and Daisy, and he hadn’t even died. It should have been Jon instead of Tim. Jon, with his shitty plans and shittier attitudes. Jon, whose propensity to question everything had led everyone down this path. He was completely wrapped up in himself and he had the most irritating habit of only ever taking a smoke break when Melanie did. He should have died instead.

Tim was the closest thing to a friend that Melanie had at the Institute. He understood her anger, felt it too. They had even joked around, trading increasingly impractical ways of committing murder. They were just starting to have little inside jokes, mostly about Jon. He was the only person who understood her, and now he was gone.

The hardest part of it all was that Melanie couldn’t even cry. She’d stayed in her flat for days after she heard the news, didn’t even come in to see Elias get arrested. She drank all day, and the next day, and the day after that. She’d turned her phone off after the first 5 calls from Georgie. Enveloped in a numb haze she didn’t have to think about anything. If she didn’t go back to the Institute, she wouldn’t have to see how empty it looked. 

But she started to get sick in a way she knew wasn’t related to the alcohol, and she dragged herself back to the Institute. She packed a bag with a few changes of clothes, a double bottle of wine and a few toiletries. It was time to accept the reality of the situation.

\--- 

The place had been a mess when Melanie arrived. Martin had apparently been at Jon’s bedside each day until he had to be physically removed. It was a good thing Martin wasn’t in the archives because Melanie was liable to clock him if he was in there crying. She had a lot of pent up energy and just the thought of seeing someone crying made her skin crawl. No use grieving a prick, anyway.

Basira was there though, seated on the couch with a book in hand. Melanie knew she must be hurting too. She didn’t know what was going on between her and Daisy, but they obviously had a deep bond. Basira wasn’t crying, attention wholly directed at the book and Melanie was silently grateful.

She’d never been great at emotions, even before the whole ghost attack thing. Not her own and especially not others. Last time someone came to her about a personal problem, Melanie had offered a swift criticism of their choices with no remorse.

Now, the thought of feeling anything made her want to scream. It made her want to hurt something, anything. Or maybe that was just how she felt about everything these days.

Basira turned the page, evidently reaching a stopping point as she folded the corner of the page and closed the book. She looked up to see Melanie just standing there, staring at her.

“Er, hi,” Melanie started. “Um, how have you been the last couple of days?”

“About as well as you’d expect,” she replied.

“Right…” Melanie looked down and inspected her fingernails. The air was thick with tension and she needed to diffuse it as quickly as possible. So she said the first thing that came to mind.

“Fancy a drink?”

\--- 

Melanie knew there was a bullet in her leg. She knew it when the doctors dismissed it. She knew it when she felt it aching just below her knee. She knew it when she became angrier, more violent. She knew, and yet she did nothing about it. Tried to dismiss it early on, tried to explain it away or drink it away.

The thing was, Melanie didn’t mind the bullet. Sure, it hurt sometimes in the beginning but the pain ebbed as she gave into the anger. It came naturally to her. 

Growing up visibly gay she’d been forced to contend with people who hated her since childhood. Melanie wasn’t the kind to take threats and taunts without fighting back. She lived in a world where simply being herself publicly was a battle, who wouldn’t be angry?

Melanie was proud of her masculinity. It felt good to protect herself and as she grew older, others. She’d broken her nose once protecting a girlfriend one night after a man’s aggressive jeering became physical. It had almost been fun: the adrenaline pumping through her, the feeling of her fist meeting flesh, the way her girlfriend had doted on her for days after. She wore her crooked nose with pride. 

Sometime in her twenties she’d gone on a few dates with a woman who started a discussion about how butches perpetuate harmful stereotypes about masculinity and its impact on feminism on a date. Melanie had not-so-politely excused herself and hadn’t seen her since. 

Privately she wondered what exactly the woman had seen in her then, with her buzz cut and men’s clothes. Melanie wasn’t some sort of lesbian stereotype, she was a person. Nothing wrong with falling into a few tropes. 

Growing up, Melanie was especially close with her father. They spent a lot of time in the garage, where her father taught her all about using tools, how to fix problems in the house and how to work on a car. 

He showed her how to throw a proper punch, although he insisted that she only did that if she _absolutely_ had to. Melanie and her father had differing definitions on what exactly that meant. 

Her parents taught her how to advocate for herself early on, always supportive of her thoughts and decisions. She wasn’t one of those women who struggled with feeling anger, afraid that expressing her own needs would cause others to dislike her.

Melanie grew up self-assured, knowing that anger wasn’t a bad emotion but rather a sign that something was wrong. Melanie was lucky to have had such wonderful parents. 

So it didn’t feel weird to be angry after she’d been shot, or when she started working for the Institute. It was perfectly natural to be upset about a situation like that. And work was stressful, it wasn’t unusual to be frustrated after work or need a glass of wine to unwind at the end of the day. 

Terrible things that were out of her control just kept happening. Anyone would be angry in her situation. Frankly, she didn’t understand why some of the others weren’t. At least she had solace in Tim, who was just as angry as she was. 

It was after Jon died that she realized something was wrong. With Elias gone her anger didn’t disappear, it shifted. She couldn’t go visit her comatose boss because she was scared that if she did, she’d do something she would regret. It wasn’t normal to hate someone who lay dead for all intents and purposes, but she couldn’t help it. 

Everyone had known the risks of fighting the Stranger. Jon didn’t even want Tim to come along. They all knew what was going to happen, and yet they still went. It wasn’t fair to blame Jon for that. He hadn’t even been there when Melanie got the job. Her hatred wasn’t justified, but it felt right.

The anger and frustration wrapped around her like a shell to protect her. It was the only thing that felt natural after all this time. Like a child’s blanket, it held a sense of security, of safety. Melanie couldn’t give that up, not now when she needed it most. So if the bullet in her leg made her angry and violent, so be it. At least she was feeling something.

\--- 

It turned out that being sort of possessed by an entity that craved violence could be useful after all. When the Flesh attacked, Melanie was able to fight most of the abominations off single handedly. As she moved more and more of her things into the archives, several large kitchen knives had come with her. Basira had teased her, saying if anything were to happen, her gun would be far more reliable.

But the gun wasn’t especially useful on beings with multiple hearts and other extraneous body parts. It was those kitchen knives that saved Basira’s life, and earned her deep respect. 

Things were different after that. Melanie protected the archives with a new fervor, patrolling several times a day. She and Basira had moved in completely, and Melanie was going to protect their new lives or die trying.

Martin was a different story. His connection to the archives seemed to begin and end with Jon. He’d grown increasingly distant after the Unknowing, and even gave up on Jon waking up. Finally, he’d left the archives completely, working for the new bastard in charge of the Institute. Melanie would fight for Martin if he ever asked, but she understood that he wouldn’t. 

So it was just her and Basira. Unlikely roommates and even unlikelier friends. They didn’t have much in common, but they understood each other. That was enough, wasn’t it?

Georgie had called it trauma bonding. Didn’t think it was healthy. She hadn’t wanted Melanie to move into the archives, had begged her to move in with her instead. 

“It isn’t safe,” Melanie had insisted. “I’d get killed if I lived anywhere else.”

Georgie had pursed her lips and muttered something about Melanie needing help, about how Georgie just didn’t know who she was anymore. Melanie had pleaded with her to try to understand but it fell on deaf ears. 

“Melanie, I care about you, but this isn’t normal. I know you’ve told me about how you can’t quit and there’s some evil god involved but I just don’t understand why you can’t get help. Look at Jon! Look at all the good that place has done him!”

“That’s what I’m saying,” Melanie cried, “That’s what’s going to happen if I’m not careful, if I don’t stay where it’s safe. Please try to understand Georgie, I’m not crazy. I’m not.”

Georgie had looked at her for a long time before speaking again. They were sat on her two-seater again, Melanie desperately trying to look away and Georgie desperately trying to catch her eye.

“I don’t think you’re crazy, Melanie. I’ve had...an experience, too. But I just think that moving into the archives is asking for more trouble, not less of it. I just-” she choked up and paused for a moment to gain composure. 

“When you told me about the ritual, that Jon might die...I tried not to think that it was possible. I wanted to believe that you were overreacting and that yeah, things were crazy, but they couldn’t be that crazy. But seeing him like this, visiting him in hospital and instead of hearing his heartbeat you hear the clock ticking, it got me thinking.”

Georgie had taken a deep breath and held one of Melanie’s hands, brought it close to her chest. “I don’t want you to die without me ever telling you that I’m deeply, deeply in love with you.”

“Georgie, you don’t- you can’t really mean that,” Melanie’s shock was evident. “You’re just saying that to get me to move in with you and forget about the archives.” Her voice was softer, teasing.

“That’s not true!” Georgie protested. “I mean, yes that’s what I want you to do but that’s not why I said it. Not really how I planned it either, but, y’know.” 

“So you did plan it, then?”

“Sure. I planned on never saying anything about it because you’re my best friend and I don’t want to do anything that could drive you away from me. But the way things are, I just, I didn’t want you to die not knowing. That’s all.”

Melanie’s heart had thawed just a little bit. “Georgie Barker, are you saying you were scared?”

“Absolutely not,” Georgie pouted, “I just made a decision based on the fact that confessions change friendships and I didn’t want ours to change.”

“Even if I felt the same way?”

“Well, I mean, of course I’ve thought about it I mean it’s been years, but that’s besides the point because you don’t feel that way about me and really you can just forget I said anything I just wanted to get it off my chest really and-”

“Georgie,” Melanie interrupted. “Shut up.” And then Melanie had leaned in and pressed her lips against Georgie’s. It was short and chaste, and when Melanie pulled back she stayed close enough that their foreheads touched. “I feel the same way.”

They had kissed again, longer this time, and something shifted in Melanie’s chest. A flicker of hope, of love, compassion. Something she hadn’t felt in a long, long time.

\--- 

Melanie’s relationship with Georgie was complicated. She didn’t feel ready to call them committed, because relationships take work and she simply didn’t have the time, energy, or mental capacity to be a great partner.

It had been difficult to acknowledge, but they agreed to take things slow. No matter the strength of a love between two people, it would be nearly impossible to start a good relationship during these circumstances.

So things were different but not completely so. They hung out more often and when they did it was more physical. Cuddling during a movie, holding hands on the street, occasionally trading kisses. No pressure or expectations, although they decided not to talk about work unless it was life threatening. 

Finally, there was an end in sight. Something to work towards, a reason outside of herself. Melanie didn’t care what she had to do or what she would have to lose, she was going to get out.

\--- 

Unfortunately, things didn’t get better just because Melanie and Georgie had sorted things out. Yes, Georgie was a positive influence on her and Melanie was delighted at how things were going, but that wasn’t enough to sway an entity of fear.

Melanie grew more and more paranoid, carried her knives with her wherever she went, even just to Georgie’s flat. She never stayed the night, terrified that Basira was vulnerable without her. 

Even going to the laundromat didn’t feel safe. Melanie would sit in front of the machines, hyper-vigilant and on the lookout for anything that looked out of place. Her hand jerked to her knife at the slightest provocation and she could hardly sleep anymore.

She’d even stopped drinking so much, not wanting to be compromised in a time of crisis. Georgie had had a hand in that as well, manipulated one problem to solve another. And while Melanie was drinking less, it didn’t mean she didn’t drink at all. Basira was drinking pretty heavily herself, and it didn’t hurt terribly to have a drink or two with her every once in a while.

They’d grown closer and closer as time had gone on. It was easier to share secrets, feel vulnerable when drunk. They traded stories about bad dates, coming out, good dates, what it felt like to lose someone you love. 

While Melanie tried to hold down the archives, Basira was fervently researching. If there was another way out, she wanted to find it. There was no one left who could tell them what to do, so Basira had stepped into the role. 

Melanie had done quite enough of research for the rest of her life as far as she was concerned. She watched Basira grow twitchy as well, and over time she could tell that while Basira respected and trusted her, she still thought of her as an unknown variable. 

There was another benefit to their friendship, which was that they didn’t call each other out on their bad habits. Basira didn’t comment on Melanie’s extensive alarms throughout the night, set so that she could be sure her knife was still under her pillow, and Melanie turned a blind eye when her bottles were finished too quickly. 

Melanie used all the energy she spent on appearing normal whenever she visited Georgie, so when she was in the archives she was generally a paranoid wreck. She started constructing traps to leave around the archives and set up a password system with Basira. Several times Melanie had gone to the shops to purchase a security camera system, but always stopped herself before going through with it. 

It was too much like the Eye, the watching. She was paranoid, sure, who wouldn’t be? They’d literally been attacked by flesh monsters that had come in through the pipes of all places. But she wasn’t going to do anything to feed the Eye. She would simply have to trust that if she couldn’t see an immediate threat, there probably wasn’t one lurking around the corner. 

Sometimes Melanie would ask Georgie about things that happened years ago, just to make sure she was the same person. 

Melanie remembered Sasha, but that didn’t mean she was immune to someone else turning. She was even beginning to suspect that the thing in the hospital wasn’t Jon at all, but some sort of puppet that had survived the Unknowing. She’d gone once to visit with Georgie but she’d been sick at the sight of him and hadn’t been since. 

It would be just like Jon to wake up from a coma utterly unharmed, come back to the archives as if nothing had changed while the rest of them had grieved and fought and suffered in his absence. But Melanie didn’t believe that Jon was alive anymore. Probably blown to smithereens along with Tim, just a puppet lying in bed stringing them all along. Even Martin had given up on him waking up and that had been months ago. 

To say that Melanie didn’t take it well when Jon woke up would be a massive understatement.

\--- 

Jon was alive, or at least something that looked like him was. Melanie was desperately trying to explain this to Basira, who was simply not having it.

“Look, Melanie, I get you don’t like the guy and I know that you’ve gotten used to being the protector around here, but it’s really just Jon.” Basira sighed. “I mean, he’s definitely turning into some kind of monster, but he’s the same prick he’s always been,” she amended.

“It’s like you’re not listening to me at all!” Melanie wailed. She was going to have to try a different angle here. “You don’t remember Sasha, do you?” 

“Sure I do,” Basira was startled out of her patented calming-Melanie-down tone. “She used to work here before we did, I ran into her once or twice when I was still slipping Jon tapes.”

“Right, but that wasn’t Sasha. Not really.”

“Oh, you mean about how she died? Yeah, I know about that.”

Melanie frowned, “But you don’t remember her. You never met the real Sasha, you don’t know what she really looks like.”

“Right, but neither do you. I mean, that’s the whole point of the monster, isn’t it?”

“No, that’s the thing, Basira,” Melanie held back a groan of frustration. “I _do_ remember her. I’m the only person who actually knows what the real Sasha looks like. Those things, they always pick one person to remember. To make them go crazy.”

“Oh,” Basira’s eyes widened and Melanie watched the pieces fall into place. “You think the same thing happened to Jon, that you’ll be the only one to see if it’s really him.”

“Exactly! So you understand why we can’t let him come back here.”

“Melanie, if something’s wrong I promise I’ll believe you. But you haven’t even seen him yet. We’ll deal with that problem when and if we get there and no sooner.” 

There was a finality in Basira’s tone that let Melanie know the conversation was over. 

“Right. Good talk.” She turned on her heel and stalked away. Let Basira go ahead and think she was crazy, but she wasn’t going to let anything harm her home ever again.

\--- 

Sleep didn’t come easy to Melanie, and when she finally fell asleep there were only nightmares or uncomfortable tossing and turning. Thus, the alarms throughout the night to check her knife or the perimeter of the archives not only made her feel safe, but kept her from uneasy sleep.

Once Georgie found out, she had strongly encouraged Melanie to see a doctor for sleeping medication. It had taken quite a bit of that strong encouragement, but Georgie had pointed out that sleep was one of the base treatments for mood disorders, and even if Melanie’s problem was more supernatural than chemical it seemed worth a shot. Maybe if she was lucky, she wouldn’t dream at all. 

There were only a few weeks of blissful sleep before the one thing that Melanie was terrified of happened: she was attacked in her sleep.

A rush of terror woke Melanie up from her powerful drug induced sleep. All her senses were assaulted at once. Two figures standing over her, shaky breaths, a heavy weight she couldn’t feel but recognized as belonging to her, the smell of blood and antiseptic, the taste of bile rising in her throat and the gut-wrenching realization that the bullet was gone.

She reacted quickly, easily grabbing the scalpel and swinging her arm down hard into the man’s shoulder. There was more blood and then screaming, everyone screaming and running and fighting and for the first time in a year Melanie felt hot tears stream down her face.

\--- 

She hadn’t stopped crying after that. Barricaded in the small room, she lay curled on the cot and cried into her pillow until it was damp. Hadn’t even let Basira in to bandage the wound, she’d done it herself, sniffling all the while.

When the feeling came back to her leg, it felt empty. The bullet hadn’t hurt in a long time, not since she’d given in to the Slaughter. It didn’t even hurt now, making the absence of the bullet that much worse. Like her body had grown around the bullet, protecting it. And now that it was gone, the hole remained even with the skin sewn up. 

A part of her was grateful to fix the wound herself. It reminded her of an old ritual, the way she used to clean her cuts after hurting herself. Like if she could mend the wounds, maybe her heart could mend, too. 

The first aid materials had all been brought in, as if they had really thought that doing a good clean-up job meant that Melanie would never notice that the bullet had been taken. As if she would just wake up as the old cheerful yet bitey Melanie. 

But that woman was long gone. The old Melanie wasn’t a place she could go back to, or an outfit she could slip into. She was a completely different person and the only place she could go was forward. 

So she took the cotton balls and antiseptic and cleaned the wound. It felt strange to be touching her leg and not feel it, but it was hardly the weirdest thing that had happened to her. 

Satisfied that it was clean, she found the bandages and wrapped them methodically around her calf. There was an ACE bandage and an ice pack, too, which she used as well. They had put so much thought and care into this, and yet never spoke to her about what they were planning.

No, of course they couldn’t have. She’d have been angry, and rightly so. They had no idea what this power had done for her, how long it had kept her going, how it kept her and everyone else safe. 

Now, she had nothing. She had to start over again, try to figure out herself yet again. Had to learn how to trust, how to feel safe all over again. It felt like every time she got a grasp on her situation, the rug was pulled out from under her yet again. 

She was so, so empty. Each emotion had been slowly pulled away from her until there was only anger, numbness, and the occasional distant flicker of something resembling love and caring. Now there was just the numbness. 

Melanie was not accustomed to asking others for help. It was always a last resort, difficult to admit her weakness. Her conversations with Georgie about her deteriorating situation had been like pulling teeth.

It was fitting then, that the first things Melanie did after having the influence of the Slaughter removed from her body were to patch up the wound, and call Georgie for help.

\--- 

The knife stayed in the archives because it was only practical, but Melanie didn’t think she’d be the one to use it. She’d been staying overnight at Georgie’s now. It just wasn’t a good idea to be in proximity of either Jon or Basira. The thought of seeing either of them made her want to throw up.

Feelings were coming back to her slowly. One morning she woke up early to make Georgie breakfast in bed. When Georgie woke up and smiled, Melanie started crying, overwhelmed by the feelings of love that washed over her.

They watched TV when Georgie wasn’t working and Melanie surprised them both when she snorted at a joke from a cheesy sitcom. 

Was it better? It depended on who was being asked. Basira said that Melanie was better, but that was because now she could be controlled. Georgie said that Melanie was better, but that was because she was getting closer to being a lover. Jon said that Melanie was better, but that was because she wasn’t trying to kill him anymore. 

She didn’t feel better though. Sure, feelings were great, she wasn’t an anxious mess about living in the archives and there was one less evil thing trying to control her. But she was lost. It felt like she was wandering a completely new landscape with nothing to guide her.

Georgie was there though, helping her through it all. It was Georgie who encouraged Melanie to start talking to Basira again, and pass on an apology to Jon. She still couldn’t stay away from the Institute completely, but it was easier to go back knowing that Georgie’s door was open and waiting for her return.

\--- 

“Melanie, I think it might be time to think about getting some therapy,” Georgie said softly one night in bed, fingers combing idly through Melanie’s short hair.

Melanie scoffed, “You really think there’s a therapist out there who could deal with,” she gestured vaguely with one hand, “all of this?”

“Well, not exactly,” Georgie sighed. “But I think there’s a lot of good you could do. When I was dealing with my own, er, ghost story back in uni, therapy was actually really helpful even though I couldn’t say what exactly I’d gone through.” 

Melanie hummed thoughtfully as Georgie continued. “Like, we worked on how to cope with trauma in a constructive way and how to start feeling again, all that good stuff. I only told her that a friend died, and my symptoms were surprisingly similar to depression.”

“That sounds...really similar to me, actually.” Melanie had already done a lot of work learning to open up with Georgie, and she didn’t look forward to opening up to some stranger that she was paying. But she hadn’t thrown the idea immediately out the window, another sign that she was changing.

“I’m not saying you have to, or anything. Just, it was really helpful for me, and I think you might get something out of it if you try.”

It was true that she needed some sort of professional help, and that obviously wasn’t coming from anyone in the archives circle. If it wasn’t for her, she could just stop going or find a different therapist. 

“Alright,” Melanie said. “I’ll try it.”

“Really?” Georgie’s eyebrows shot up, like she hadn’t expected Melanie to agree so easily. “I didn’t mean you had to decide right now, I was just tossing it out there.”

“No, I know, but I don’t think it’s a bad idea. I have one condition, though.”

Georgie looked concerned, but waited patiently for Melanie to continue. 

“Would you come to the sessions with me? Not, like, in the room but just, come with me and sit in the waiting room? You don’t have to, of course, but it would make me feel...safer.”

“Of course I’ll go with you, sweetheart,” Georgie pressed a kiss to Melanie’s cheek. “I could even pick you up from work, if you want.”

Melanie gave her a watery smile before burying her face in the crook of Georgie’s neck. “Thanks, Georgie,” she mumbled.

“I’ve been so worried about you,” Georgie’s voice shook. “So scared that I would lose you to someone or something. Or to you.” She sniffed loudly, and Melanie wrapped her arms tightly around her. 

“I never meant to worry you,” Melanie said softly. “I know, I know, I did a lot of things that did worry you, but I thought I was protecting you by keeping you in the dark. I thought that I was strong enough to make it out by myself and you would never have to know.”

“Melanie, you are strong. Just because you aren’t alone doesn’t mean-” Melanie cut Georgie off with a finger to her lips.

“Let me finish, first. I used to think that asking help meant you were weak. And when that thing was inside me, I couldn’t think straight. Couldn’t really think much of anything at all that wasn’t about hurting or being hurt.” Melanie’s eyebrows knitted together as she spoke. 

“But being with you, it’s made me feel like it’s okay to be vulnerable for the first time in, like, forever. You make me want to be a better person, and that makes me feel strong.” She smiled at Georgie. “I guess what I’m trying to say is: thank you. For not giving up on me even when I worked so hard to push you out.”

“I love you,” Georgie murmured. “And I would never have given up on you, Melanie.”

“You don’t know that,” Melanie scoffed.

“I do. Because I know that you’re a good person.”

“And how do you figure that?”

“Under your tough exterior, you’re really a big softie. Remember when that spooky stuff happened with Sarah? I remember when you told me about it, you said you checked on her alone because you didn’t want to embarrass her in case it was just something silly.”

“Well yeah, but I don’t see how that’s relevant.”

“Now you wait for me to finish, Melanie!” They both chuckled. “So, as I was saying, you’re kind. You were in a scary situation and you went in alone because you cared about someone else’s feelings. When you tried to stay away from me, it was because you cared about my safety.” Georgie traced patterns along Melanie’s back as she spoke. “I know you’ve had something, well, evil influencing you for a long time, but you’ve always been motivated by the people around you.” 

Melanie’s eyes watered, “You saw all that in me?” 

“You contain multitudes,” Georgie joked. “But seriously, yes, you’ve changed a lot in the last couple years but your core values never changed, and I have a lot of respect for that. It’s how I knew you were never too far gone to be saved.”

“I love you,” Melanie whispered for the first time.

\--- 

Finding a good therapist was hard, between the legitimately bad ones, and the ones that Melanie thought were influenced by an entity. There had even been one that wanted to use a tape recorder of all things. She’d almost lost it right there, but she’d managed to contain herself. Another sign things were going well.

But once she finally found one that had “clicked” as Georgie would say, things started to get easier. They talked about ways to be gently assertive, and Melanie finally told Daisy to stop calling her “Mel”. She did worksheets occasionally that she complained about as she did them, but she had to admit it did make her feel like she was accomplishing something. 

It definitely wasn’t easy, especially since Melanie couldn’t be honest about her problems. She’d been as vague as possible without making it impossible to work with her. 

Georgie coming with her helped as well. She was learning that relying on another person wasn’t a bad thing. Ex-girlfriends had complained about her unwillingness to open up and it was often cited during breakups. 

Things were different with Georgie. It wasn’t that she was special in that regard, but just that Melanie’s learning about communication happened to coincide with their relationship.

In short, things were looking up for Melanie. Her personal life was going so well that there were moments that she completely forgot about the Institute. She’d told Jon a while ago now that she wouldn’t be actively working for the Institute anymore, only staying there for because she was bound there. So when Jon said he’d found a way to leave, she knew she had to take it.

Which was how she found herself sitting in the room where she had once been given an unauthorized surgery, and steadied the awl she had found in the library. Her resignation letter had been placed on Peter Lukas’s death, and she was finally ready to go. 

She hadn’t told Georgie, because although Georgie wanted more than anything for Melanie to get out of the Institute, she would have wavered knowing the truth. 

Melanie worked quickly. She knew if she doubted herself for even a second, she wouldn’t be able to finish. 

The experience was incredibly painful, both due to the physical nature of what she’d done and the severing of her contract with the Eye. She let out a bloodcurdling scream and felt the blood seep down her cheeks. Melanie wondered if she would still be able to cry after this. 

She heard the archive door slam open and knew that the paramedics had arrived thanks to Jon calling ahead. It was the last thing she heard before she fell unconscious.

\--- 

Waking up in the hospital was incredibly strange. Melanie tried to open her eyes but couldn’t. She noted a dull throbbing in her skull, and a weight in her lap. She tried moving her hand, and realized it was being held by another.

“Georgie,” she croaked. “Is that you?”

There was a low mumble that sounded like Georgie when she didn’t want to be woken.

“Georgie,” she tried again, this time in a singsong. “It’s time to wake up.”

Louder grumbling, and then the weight lifted off her lap all at once.

“Melanie! Oh thank god, you’re awake, what were you thinking? They said they found you on the floor with an awl in your hand, did you really do this to yourself?” Georgie’s worry manifested in loud scolding, forgetting that she was in a hospital room.

“Whoa, no sympathy for the injured, is that it?” Melanie gave a weak attempt at a joke.

Georgie lowered her voice, but she wasn’t any less cross. “I’ve been worried sick about you all day, do you have any idea what it felt like getting the call that you were in hospital?”

Melanie reached out, trying to find Georgie’s face. It was going to be hard, not getting to see her anymore. Luckily, Georgie understood what she was doing, and guided her hand to her cheek, wet with fresh tears.

“I’m sorry,” Melanie offered. “I wanted to tell you but I knew you’d try to stop me. Try to find a different way. ”

“What are you saying, Melanie.” It was phrased like a question, but it sounded like Georgie already knew.

“I’m free now,” she said simply. “I’m free.”

**Author's Note:**

> thank you so much for reading, i hope you enjoyed! im hopeful that i will post a few more fics for this fandom that focus on the ladies, so look out for that if you're interested.


End file.
